


Of Secrets and Fathers

by caramelkaren



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-26
Updated: 2013-02-26
Packaged: 2017-12-03 15:55:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/699987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caramelkaren/pseuds/caramelkaren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur Shappey secretly loves to play golf, because it reminds him of the times when his dad wasn't actually a horrible person.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Secrets and Fathers

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Cabin Crew Riot Two! Prompt #3: Secrets (Secret Pastimes)
> 
> I seriously hope nothing about Arthur and golf was mentioned in canon. I can't remember, and if so, chances are it throws this whole fic off.

Now, when stewarding on a one jet airline that was constantly booking flights just so it could stay in business, one didn't find a whole lot of time to go off and do things outside of work. And when you had a mother that seemed watch over you like a hawk, it was even harder to find the time to sneak off and do things in secret. But Arthur Shappey was determined to find the time.

Actually, Arthur was quite amazed that he had managed to keep this pastime a secret for so long. Mum always managed to coax secrets out of him. Always. In fact, the only time she hadn't was the surprise flight to Helsinki he set up for her birthday. But that was probably because it looked like a regular old flight to her. There was nothing suspicious about it. Now, leaving the house without telling her where he was going, that had suspicion written all over it. But he really couldn't. If he did, he was quite sure Mum would force him to stop. Not that it was a dangerous hobby or something. All it was was golfing. But if Mum found out, she'd ask him why was he _golfing_ of all things. Arthur had to admit, it wasn't his usual style of pastime. Not like collecting polar bear plushies or visiting the otter exhibit at the zoo or drawing in chalk on the sidewalk...No, it was much too so-phis-ti-cat-ed for him.

But Dad used to take him to golf matches.

Gordon wasn't always the completely terrible man everyone made him out to be. When Arthur was still just a kid, Gordon put up with him much more than he did once he grew up some more. Something about being little made his, well, intellectual shortcomings a little more forgivable. This meant that when Arthur needed looking after, he'd do it. But sometimes taking responsibility and being the sole parent around conflicted with his regular golf matches. So he brought his son along.

Arthur didn't play along, of course (if he did they would be there for days for him to complete all 18 holes), but he did make a great caddy, his helpful nature already manifesting itself. At first he was wont to pick the wrong club, but he quickly learned which one was which. It was something Arthur began to look forward to. Because Gordon was out with his business friends, he had to keep up appearances. Which meant no excuses, he had to be at least a decent father to him. Which was brilliant.

Of course, as Arthur grew up, his dad stopped taking him along. He really began to miss the golf matches and his father's small but routine presence in his life.

One day, when taking one of his aimless walks through town as he was bound to do when he forgot his house key and was thus locked out after school (which was actually quite often) he found the golf shop he knew his dad frequented. They had been to stop in for tees quite often before going to the course. Gordon had a terrible habit of losing them, with or without Arthur around to try to find them. He went inside, and started looking around.

“May I help you?” asked the storekeeper.

“Oh, I was just looking at these golf clubs. See, Dad used to take me to his matches all the time, and I dunno, just looking at this stuff reminds me of him.”

“Who was your father? I might know him if he's a local golfer.”

“Gordon Shappey.”

“Really? I would've never guessed, you don't look a thing like him.”

“People tell me I take after Mum a lot. But I don't know what exactly it is I'm taking right after her.”

The clerk just laughed. “You're a funny boy. Hey, since your dad is one of my best customers, I'll offer you a deal. I'll take a 25% off discount from your first set of clubs. How does that sound?”

“Oh, really? That's _brilliant_!”

So from age 14, Arthur would do his best to hide his little hobby. Whenever he could, he'd go to the local course and just practice. At first, he wasn't very good. In fact, for years he wasn't. But now that he was 30, he was getting somewhere. It just took lots and lots of practice. Like a lot of things Arthur learned.

Today was a cargo flight to Dublin, and for a reason Mum wouldn't specify (though Arthur believed it had something to do with Herc), she wouldn't be joining them. Not only that, but they weren't expected to leave for their next flight until late tomorrow evening, so they had time to kill. Arthur decided to take this rare opportunity and sneak on his golf clubs. He'd heard that Dublin had some _brilliant_ golf courses, and he was eager to try one out. After all, when your only exposure was the local course in Fitton, it did tend to get a little predictable.

Arthur decided that in order to most easily sneak something onto G-ERTI, you had to get there really early. So he drove his car (which was still old, a terrible color, and smelled of duffle coats, but what could he do about it?) to Fitton Airfield earlier than he usually came with Mum.

He took the clubs out of his trunk, and almost went to place them in the cargo hold when he realized that this was a _cargo_ flight. They would need to place exactly what it was they were flying to Dublin in there, and his clubs would surely be discovered. But where else to hide them on such a small jet?

“Arthur? What do you have there?”

The steward jumped as he heard the familiar voice of a certain airdot captain. Drats, he didn't come early enough. “N-nothing, nothing at all, just some bit of cargo we have to fly today.”

“Really? What looks to be, golf clubs? In a cargo flight containing only boxes of paper.”

“Oh, Skip, you caught me. I was trying to sneak my clubs onto G-ERTI.”

“Yours? I thought you were doing some sort of favor for Douglas maybe.”

“Yeah, they're mine.”

“You'd think by now nothing about you would surprise me any more. I'm sorely mistaken. But why are you being so secretive about it? Do you have a reputation of being silly to protect?”

“No, not at all! It's just that, Dad used to golf.”

“Ohh...”

“When he played it was one of the few times he was actually _brilliant_.”

“I get it. But because it's related to your dad, you think we wouldn't want you playing, is that it?”

“Yeah. You nailed it right on the head, Skip!”

“Well, I don't know about the others, but I can't judge. See this ring?”

“Yeah.”

“It's my dad's. When my mom was going through his old possessions, she happened to notice that it was about my ring size too. So she gave it to me. I haven't taken it off since, because it's a constant reminder of what was.”

“Oh wow.”

“So I understand why golfing would be so important to you. But, umm, do you have any friends you golf with?”

“Actually, no.”

“You just go alone?”

“Yeah, though I often wish I had someone to talk to.”

“Well, maybe I'll tag along with you this time.”

“You'd do that, Skip?”

“It's not like I have anything else to kill time with between these next two flights. But please, don't ask me to play along. The last time I attempted it, I got hit in the head with a ball. _My_ golf ball.”

“Oooh, that'd leave a bruise.”

“For weeks I had a nice bump that was sore any time it was touched.”

“Hey, Skip, do you do anything secret with your time? Or is it all just reading over the manual again?”

“Now what makes you think I'm going to tell you if it's secret?”

“Well, you figured out mine. It's only fair.”

“Now, you have to promise me. You, you can't tell anyone, and I mean _anyone_ about this. Especially not Carolyn or Douglas.”

“I promise!” Arthur stuck out his pinky finger to Martin.

“What are you doing?”

“Have you never heard of a pinky promise, Skip?”

“But it's so childi- oh all right,” Martin said, taking his own pinky and wrapping it around Arthur's.

“So, what is it?”

“Well, it's, ummm, it's...I. Well, I bird watch.”

“Skip. That's _brilliant_!”

“You think so?”

“Yeah! Birds are really, really _brilliant_ , and you spend time just watching them do what they do. _Brilliant_!”

“I don't normally tell people because it's such a little old lady habit. But I like birds. Always have. When I was little I called them 'living aeroplanes.'”

“Maybe in return for watching me play golf, I can join you on a bird watch.”

“Oh, I didn't bring my binoculars or my field guide or anything.”

“Then we can do it another time! Oh, but I have a question.”

“What's that?”

“What's a field guide?”


End file.
